Lakota artist smudges the former gold mine inside the Black Hills
The mountain range is central to the origin story of several tribal nations, including his, and it has become an international symbol of the ongoing struggle for Indigenous land rights and the destruction of sacred sites. To the Lakota, Mount Rushmore is the most visible scar on the mountains. The former gold mine beneath is another, and that's what motivated Two Bulls to use his performance art to cleanse it.
'You hear 'land back', and it means a lot of different things to different people,' he said, referring to the Indigenous-led movement to restore tribal self-determination through ownership and stewardship of their homelands. 'It's been interesting trying to reframe some of these conversations about stewardship and land rights and treaties.'
When the green pines on top meet the blue sky above, it creates the perception of a black outline, which is why the Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota people call it 'He Sapa', which means 'black ridge.' To them, it is where their creation began. But for generations, this sacred place was mined and stripped of gold, leaving lasting marks.
Today, the former Homestake Gold Mine, a 300-mile (480-kilometer) tunnel system carved inside the mountains, houses the Sanford Underground Research Facility, where scientists study particle physics and dark matter. The deep mine shafts encased in granite are ideal for research into the secrets of the stars.
As an artist in residence at SURF last year, Two Bulls felt a connection to its depths but a tremendous sense of loss when he ventured into the mine.
'I was bearing witness to the desecration that Homestake did every day. It was heartbreaking,' he said. And it left him wondering: 'How do you recover from a desecration or a crime?'
Two Bulls also respected the work being conducted by some of the world's top minds inside the Black Hills, and he wanted to find a way to show them that this place was important long before its value was measured in gold or scientific research. He decided the best solution was also the simplest: smudge.
Smudging is the act of cleansing, spiritually and physically, by burning plants like sage, cedar or sweetgrass and enveloping one's self or a space in the smoke. It has been a common practice across Indian Country for generations. Last week, using sage donated by Native people from as close as the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation and as far away as the West Coast, Two Bulls burned several bundles, each representing the prayers of the community that donated it.
For an hour, he burned the bundles in a small stove at the entrance to the former mine, fanning the flames with eagle feathers to smudge the place that his people revere as the center of the cosmos.
Sensors in the mine nearly a mile below ground detected the smoke, a spokesperson for SURF said.
'To see how that was put together, that floored me,' said Rylan Sprague, a botanist and member of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe who chairs SURF's cultural advisory committee. 'Leave it to an artist to take something that seems so regular and turn it into something totally different.'
Two Bulls said Western science often overlooks or misunderstands Indigenous ways of thinking about the world and our origins, and that he wants his art project, called Azilya — the Lakota word for smudging — to be a way for the two to meet. An exhibition of his art from his time at SURF exploring that concept is currently on display at the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology.
Several researchers and members of SURF's staff watched Two Bulls smudge the mine. Sprague said he could see from the looks on their faces that the SURF employees in attendance understood the reverence Two Bulls and his community have for the place where they work.
The room was largely quiet as Two Bulls sent smoke and prayers a mile beneath the earth's surface.
'It's not a site that I think they think about as a sacred site. It's a work site,' Two Bulls said. 'I hope that that happens. That's my intention.'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Daily Mail
4 days ago
- Daily Mail
Inside remote US island with just 77 residents where you can WALK to Russia
A small island community in Alaska with just 77 residents is closer to Russia than the US mainland and when temperatures plunge the ice is so thick you can walk to Russia. Little Diomede, a territory that the US bought in 1867, lies just 2.4 miles from Big Diomede, their Russian neighbors, in the Bering Strait. While Big Diomede is a Russian military outpost, Little Diomede is home to 77 local Alaskans, known as Inupiat natives. Dividing them is the International Date Line, meaning if you left Little Diomede at 9am on a Monday and crossed to its neighbor, you would arrive on Sunday. The Diomedes were both inhabited by Indigenous peoples, and previously described themselves as one community across two islands. But at the start of the Cold War in 1948, Big Diomede's residents were scattered across Siberia and both nations sealed the border, now known as the Ice Curtain. 'Families were suddenly divided across the Bering Strait,' author Charles Wohlforth told the BBC. 'These connections were broken and not reconnected for 40 years,' he added, referring to the 1988 Friendship Flight which reunited families in Russia and Alaska. After a brief 25 year window of friendliness, however, the two islands now keep a watchful eye on each other after Putin came to power in the early 2000s and discouraged Russian interaction with the West. The Diomedes are positioned so close together that when the water freezes in the winter they are only a short 30 minute walk away, but no one does, as it is illegal to travel between the islands. Threats of flares, rifles and attack dogs sit waiting for anyone who tries to cross onto Big Diomede without the correct documentation. 'We watch them, they watch us,' Edward Soolook, a 58-year-old local, told The Economist. Through his binoculars looking across, Soolook can see the Russian soldiers, ships and helicopters as well as an observation hut. 'Keep watch, that's the mission. We're the eyes and ears for the nation,' Soolook, a veteran from the war in Iraq, added. But life for Soolook and the locals is a bleak reality. In the depths of winter, the islanders only see four hours of daylight and sub-zero temperatures. Access to the internet or phone signal only lasts a few hours a day. And the small island, with around 30 buildings in total, is struggling to survive as climate change takes its toll on their way of life. For generations, the island has hunted seals or walruses to eat. Just 20 years ago, a five-man hunting crew would have secured hundreds of each before winter struck. Local Otto Soolook, 53, told the outlet: 'Something's wrong with this place. It is possessed. We don't get walrus and seals like we used to. That is climate change. It all starts right here, it feel like.' He said this year they managed to hunt just five seals and two walruses. 'That's nothing. That is just a snack,' Otto added. To survive, the islanders rely on a weekly delivery of food from the mainland which arrives by helicopter, if the weather allows. Yet the pickings are limited, as the shipment only brings in canned goods or overly-processed foods to survive the test of time from Alaska's largest western town, Nome. A plane previously delivered the islanders food and supplies by landing on the thick frozen ice during winter, but it no longer arrives following the effects of climate change. 'The ice can't stay frozen, the current moves it, the wind blows it,' Kevin Ozenna, a father of two, told the outlet. 'I used to walk miles to the open ocean to hunt, but now I can't. The ice is just too thin.' Little Diomede is struggling to survive as their isolation from the outside world means that their culture is ever more important, but fears are growing that too is being lost. Local Frances Ozenna told the BBC: 'We know we have relatives over there. The older generations are dying out, and the thing is, we know nothing about each other. 'We are losing our language. We speak English now, and they speak Russian. It's not our fault. It's not their fault. But it's just terrible.' Josef Burwell, a pharmacist from the mainland, told the Economist: 'Diomede is unsustainable. 'It is not only climate change, but also because so many of these 'hunters' are not hunting because they are ordering on Amazon or they are playing video games on their computer. 'The water is undrinkable. The kids, when they turn 18 and graduate, most of them leave.' But the bleak lifestyle and isolation, as well as leadership issues on the self-governed island, have caused whispers of rising cases of alcoholism and domestic abuse. The island has been officially dry since 1974, but booze is often found to be smuggled onto Little Diomede and some locals even moved from the island in search of closer alcohol. Edward Soolook told The Economist that he drank every time he went to Nome, and said: 'My grandpa, my dad, my brother, my sister, my uncle, they are all alcoholics. 'It is scary. I don't get help. I'll seek it, but what good is it going to do? I am just going to go right back to doing it again, because my faith is not strong. You to have to have strong faith to stop.' Residents feel their faith slipping evermore as their elders, who often took on leadership roles, are dying. The elders, for generations, bestowed advice onto the community and reminded them of their culture and traditions but, as they die, many feel that the island is lacking in social harmony. Some locals also told the outlet that newer leaders were less trust-worthy and governing less effectively. Its school equally plays a large role in the unease that the locals feel regarding the lifespan of their community. Run by two young teachers, one from the Midwest and the other from the Philippines, the only school on the island is host to 21 students. Should it have less than 12 students enrolled, the school would close, and fears loom that its closure would be the death of the island.
Daily Mail
4 days ago
- Daily Mail
Is this the world's most scenic swimming pool?
In 1909, a meeting was called by the local surf club of Sydney 's northern suburb Mona Vale. The motion: to build a natural swimming pool on a headland south of Bongin Bongin Bay (yes, its real name). Carved out to measure 100ft by 60ft, it was fed by freshwater through the soft-shale ocean ledge. At high tide, when seawater spilled in, it looked as if it was floating in the sea. By 1915, the first swimmers had taken the plunge, but not until the 1930s did it look as it does in this drone snap taken in 2018 by Canadian photographer Adam Vradenburg, 39. As part of a Depression-era employment scheme, men in Sydney were put to work upgrading the city's 30-plus ocean pools. In Mona Vale, they reinforced the concrete and created a shallower basin for toddlers. The timing was perfect. Allied soldiers stationed nearby during the Second World War beat the blazing heat with frequent dips. These days, as well as hosting free swimming and teaching clubs, with its stunning Pacific views it has another claim to fame: as one of Sydney's most snapped spots on Instagram.
South Wales Argus
6 days ago
- South Wales Argus
Chepstow Tennis Club revised clubhouse plan approved
Plans were first approved for a replacement base for Chepstow Tennis Club four years ago in July 2021. But while a fourth court, for juniors with a practice wall, and LED floodlights approved in 2021 have been put in place at Mathern Road the not-for-profit community sports club was struggling to finance the new clubhouse. In May this year it submitted revised plans for a lower-cost above-ground clubhouse structure in place of the originally approved design which would also have a reduced height, at a maximum of three metres, and a smaller floor area compared to the original plans. The originally proposed building was to be finished in render with timber cladding while the alternative will be finished in timber cladding with part natural colour and part grey. The roof will be grey coloured bitumen sheets. Monmouthshire County Council planning officer Kate Young said no third parties would be affected by making the building smaller or by altering the finishing materials and the difference in materials aren't so signficiant the impact would affect the street scene and the changes could be accepted as non-material amendments and approved. When the revised application was made, by club official Ben Durman, he said it had around 50 per cent of the funding required will be looking for support from grant giving bodies and it has worked with a quantity surveyor to manage costs. Mr Durman said at the time of the application: 'We hope to be able to go full steam ahead with fundraising once the planning permission hopefully comes through.'
